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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2025539-Behind-the-Glass
Rated: E · Other · Emotional · #2025539
Behind the Glass is a spiritual piece
I brought my son into this world with great plans for his life. He would have plans of his own and I knew I would be there to support him.

For many years of his young life he followed blindly as by an instinct that was set in place at the very beginning of time.

I reared him. I taught him. I lead him. I loved him first.

He played and I watched him. I chased him when he strayed too far so that he would always have a way back home. He learned well where home was and I trusted in his ability to find his way.

I always watched him when he went away and waited patiently for his return that would day never come. There was no fear concerning that day, yet still, I braced myself for its arrival.

He went out into the world, leaving me behind but taking with him all of the many pieces of my heart. I followed at a distance for he insisted that he needed his and I gave him my word along with my undying love without condition.

I stayed close but kept my word although it was difficult because my love for him was great.
Once in a while he would turn to me. He would see me and sometimes he would speak to me. Oh, the sweetness of those moments that filled me with joy as I clung to his every word but each came with an end leading me into this silent walk on the heels of my child.

The more time that passed the more his body weakened. The road was treacherous. Many paths had appeared but he never looked up. He simply rushed forward, so quickly I feared maybe he was being chased but there was no one chasing him. I know because I covered his back. He hurried away from me.
The weight of the world was heavy and I was weathered. I could endure what he could not but he refused my help. After a while, he forgot that I was there to help. I was as invisible to him as the wall, made of glass that separated me from my son.

The surface was as cold as the ice that had already hardened at the edges of the hole in his heart. I felt the sting of the jagged edges before he did. It continued to burn with every step and every touch of the glass as I tried to warn him.

He was too busy to hear me. He still had not looked up to see me but I was determined. When he did I would be there no matter how it broke my heart to see him fall to the ground.

I couldnât move to catch my heart as he met the sheered rocks laid out along the ground. I cried out in pain as did he and beat at the glass with my fists, surely he would hear me surely he would need me now. I needed to help him. There was no life beyond the ground where he lay.

He writhed in pain and I felt his tears flow across my spirit. What could I do? I flung myself at the glass willing the flesh on my bones, the very bones themselves to break the barrier that kept me from my son.

Even in his pain, he would not hear me. I begged and pleaded, on my knees, I cried out in agony and begged for more. He would not be in pain alone.

Strangers would pass and I would beg those that wouldnât turn away from me. Help my son. Tell him Iâm here. I need to help him. If only they would carry my words to him, point him in my direction I could save him. Please, I said, heâs my son, my child, and heâs dying.

He would not hear. His blood covered the ground. He was beaten, defeatedâhe would say to themâno one can help me. They left him behind but I remained. I could not leave him. I would not leave him.

I willed everything I had to him, I begged through every ragged breath. I could help him. I would save him, if only heâd let me. I cried desperately and tore at my clothes in frustration. A glass, only a sliver of crystal clear material kept me from my child. I willed it to shatter into millions of pieces and let me through.

I could do nothing but watch my child die behind a glass wall. My anguish could not be defined the failure was too great. I waited and I watched never taking my eyes from his severed spirit struggling inside a broken body.

He stirred. My heart rejoiced. It was the first of the last of many. His head lifted weakly, I willed him strength. I had more than enough. He lifted his eyes to me as the glass melted away like water beneath my fingertips.





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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2025539-Behind-the-Glass